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Prologue (1827, The Valley of a Thousand Hills, KwaZulu, South of Africa)
My people, I have no regrets. I, Nandi Queen of the Zulu Nation, have lived a life anointed by the ancestors. I was chosen to birth a king and lead my people. I called him uMlilwana. The fire to warm my heart and hands. But little did I know he would later turn into a flame that would burn brightly, illuminating the future of our nation. He would become an inferno that would rage ferociously for one decade, but forever changing the histories of many nations across the African continent. Yes, my son gave me a life like no other. UShaka kaSenzangakhona.
They called him Ilembe eleqa amanye amalembe ngokukhalipha. They called him uNodumehlezi kaMenzi—the one who gets famous although he is sitting, idle. Poets are liars! When was my son ever idle? The African ant, ever frenetic, would have been shamed into a stupor of helplessness by Shaka’s boundless energy, his tirelessness.
The sharp spear of the Zulu Nation.
Indeed, even as I birthed him, welcoming him into the world, I could sense that he would raise me high above nations. UShaka akashayeki. Undefeated in life and in death. There, the poets were right!
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